


Looking to the Future

by UnapologeticallyAuthor



Category: Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood & Manga
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-24
Updated: 2015-03-24
Packaged: 2018-03-19 11:59:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,848
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3609309
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/UnapologeticallyAuthor/pseuds/UnapologeticallyAuthor
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In this future alternate universe, Roy Mustang and Riza Hawkeye fill the void left by the death of the previous Fuhrer and attempt to heal the broken nation. Halfway across the land, Edward Elric pursues Winry Rockbell in a mutual push pull relationship, free of any alchemic distractions. (Or so he thought)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Looking to the Future

**Author's Note:**

> First try at FMA fan fiction, I've written some RWBY though so check it out if you want.

A warm pleasant breeze dances through the window, forcing up the curtains. I fill up a glass with water from the tap and place it on the tray, next to the small sandwich and take it into the somewhat large office that we now share. He sits at his desk with his eyes closed, leaning back and breathing evenly.

God, I can’t leave him alone for five minutes without him doing something like this.

Very gently, I shake his right shoulder, coaxing him back into reality. “Here, Roy, you’ve been working all morning and everyone went out to lunch,” I say, placing the tray in front of him.

“What’s this?” He asks, feeling the table with his hand until he finds the plate. When he puts his hand on the sandwich, he tenses up, looking up in my general direction. “Why’d you do this?”

“What do you mean? I just told you why. Eat it.”

“I’m still your commanding officer, Riza. You can’t make me do anything,” He replies, smiling roguishly.

“Just eat the damn sandwich, Sir,” I reply with equal playfulness. Ever since he lost his vision, our relationship has been like this. The man still has his vision, but he’s been forced to burden others with it too. It’s been almost a month since he became Fuhrer of Amestris and with his council of me, Edward Elric, the newly promoted Colonel Armstrong, the newly promoted Captain Havok, the newly promoted Captain Breda, and the newly promoted Sergeant Major Fuery, everything has been running smoothly. We even gave Sciezka work; she mostly transcribes the meetings using that incredible memory of hers. She’s also become Roy’s hand, since he can no longer see what he’s writing.

This week, she has off along with SMG Fuery. They started dating shortly after the downfall of the homunculi. Roy understood the need for some recuperation after that whole thing and granted it to them. I wish that he would relax a little bit; maybe then he won’t fall asleep every twenty minutes.

“Did you hear me?” Roy asks, breaking me out of my thoughts.

“Sorry, sir, come again?” I reply, focusing on him fully.

“I said thank you, I appreciate this.” He takes the sandwich and takes a bite of it, closing his eyes and chewing for a few moments before swallowing. “Um, Riza? Is there any reason that this sandwich tastes like gun lubricant?”

 

Crap. I must have accidentally picked up the bottle of polishing oil instead of olive oil. Maybe I shouldn’t keep those two so close to each other. I move my hand to take the plate away and make him another one, but his hand shoots out and slaps mine.

“I didn’t say that it was bad, I love gun oil!” Roy exclaims, biting into the sandwich with renewed fervor. That’s obviously for my benefit.

“Sir, you don’t need to eat that . . .” I say, sighing more to myself than to him.

“Why don’t we go out to lunch then?” He asks, smiling confidently in that nearly arrogant way that he does.

“I don’t really th-”

“Riza, come on. You said it; we’ve been working all morning. Everyone else is out to lunch anyway; it isn’t like we’ll be missing anything.”

It’s hard to argue with that kind of logic. As far as we know, the Drachman border is stable thanks to the leadership of Major General Armstrong. My stomach growls at the suggestion; I haven’t had much to eat and it’s been nearly four hours since breakfast.

“Alright.” I cede the argument and help him to his feet, leading him out of the room with my hand on his arm. I have to be his eyes now after all.

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Central is nice during this time of year, although I suppose that’s true for anywhere in Amestris. The north is the only place that gets really bad weather. Roy directs me to the relatively shady side of town. I can’t back out of this now, I already agreed to it.

“Where are we headed,” I ask calmly, keeping my eyes on the road before us.

“I know this great place on Elric Boulevard. The service is great too,” He says, frowning to himself. I can’t believe that he’s still upset about that. Does it really matter that the Elric brothers got one street named after themselves? Roy became the leader of the country; he could rename a street after himself if he wanted to.

The recovery project for Central is nearly complete. Every main road has been repaved to cover the damage that the war with the homunculus known as Father. Only a few side roads remain in disrepair and Breda’s unit is working hard. By my calculations, the entire project should be finished by the end of the year. Roy made it clear that he didn’t want any repairs done with alchemy. That’s understandable; the whole country was nearly torn apart using it and as of now, alchemists are seen as pariahs. The only reason that Roy became Fuhrer was because he had led the rebellion against the Amestrian state. He became a symbol of hope for people that couldn’t see the light at the end of the tunnel. And thanks to that cruel twist of fate, he lost his sight and I have this long scar across my throat. If it weren’t for the philosopher’s stone, I’d have been through.

“It’s right up on this block,” Roy states pointing out the window.

“How do you know that?” I ask, looking at him confusedly. He is blind isn’t he?

“I’m hurt, Riza. My memory isn’t that bad. I think that I would know how long it takes to get to my mother’s bar.

Right, I almost forgot. This street was one of the only ones that weren’t damaged during the war for Central. Madame Christmas’s business was booming after that because it had cheap, hot meals in a time when food was hard to come by.

We walk through the door to the bar and I spot her at the bar. I drag Roy through the sea of tables and chairs until we find ourselves sitting on barstools.

“Roy, how ya doing kid?” Madame Christmas says, cleaning a glass with a rag. “How’re your eyes?” She asks, wiping a glass with a rag.

“I’m well, and I still can’t see,” he responds, smiling at her.

“I’m glad that the Fuhrer of Amestris still has time for an old lady like me,” She says bluntly, reaching across the bar to place her hand on Roy’s head.

It’s odd; I’ve been at his side for so long and have never seen anyone else treat him like this. He’s also never let anyone treat him like this.

“I’m not here as the Fuhrer, I’m here as your son. Now can we get a two bowls of whatever you have ready?” He requests, shaking his hair out.

“Coming right up,” She replies, disappearing through the doorway into the kitchen. Soon she returns carrying a tray with two bowls balanced on opposite sides. In her other hand, she holds three bottles of what I assume to be beer. Placing the bowls on the table, she pops the caps off of the bottles on the edge of the bar and slides one to each of us. 

“So, Roy, who’s this one?” She asks, taking a long swig out of the bottle. I realize that she’s talking about me and take a small sip; I’m going to be driving back to the capitol building afterwards.

“This is my partner, Riza Hawkeye. She’s my late master’s daughter. You really don’t remember her?”

“Of course not, Roy. With the amount of girls that you bring in here, I stopped remembering names a long time ago. Hawkeye you said? I knew your father, he was a strange man no offense, but it looks like he did good by Roy and I respect that.”

I nod politely and pick up a spoon, eyeing the bowl before me with suspicion. It looks edible enough, and the woman did raise Roy, so it should be fine. I lower the spoon into the soup and let it fill before putting it into my mouth. The broth is hot and smooth, but lacks substance besides the small chunks of questionable, brown beef that float along the top. Realizing that it’s better to just eat without looking at it, I try to talk for myself.

“Madame Christmas,” I begin, placing the spoon to my right of the bowl.

“Please, call me Chris.”

“Alright. Chris. How did Roy end up as your ward?”

Roy sputters from my left, nearly choking on his drink and slams his fist on his chest. Chris looks over amusedly and shakes her head. “That’s a story for him to tell you, not me.”

I decide to drop it and go back to eating, taking small, paced sips of the beer after every few bites of soup. All the while, Roy and Chris talk and laugh. They try to bring me into the conversation quite a few times, but I steer myself out of it, letting them have their fun. Roy deserves it for how uncharacteristically hard he’s been working recently. Eventually, I look down and take the pocket watch out of Roy’s jacket and flip it open. We’ve been here for about two hours. He notices and pulls the chain back, shoving it into his pocket.

“Well, I suppose it’s time we get back to the office. I’ll be back soon,” Roy says, quickly embracing his foster mother over the bar.

It’s a good thing that we chose to leave at that point because the bar started to fill up when we left. The car ride back to the office is quiet; at least it was supposed to be until Roy cuts into my thoughts.

“What did you think of my mother?” He asks as the sun begins to set on Amestris. I stare straight ahead, taking the right into the parking lot of the building.

“She seemed nice enough; I can definitely see the resemblance.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” He asks defensively, staring blindly at me.

“Nothing, sir,” I reply, smiling to myself. “She was accommodating, like you are most of the time.”

We walk into the building and up the stairs towards the office that used to belong to Fuhrer Bradley. Since then we’ve knocked the walls down to allow for extra space for the small council. In the new Amestrian government, trust is the main focus and the knocking down of the walls showed it.

“Riza, could I call that our first date?” He suddenly asks, making me blush furiously. He’s never asked me out before; we’ve always had a mutual understanding that our relationship was more professional than anything. “Riza?” I shake my head, making the heat from my face fade a little bit.

“Well, your mother was there the whole time. . . maybe if you asked me again for Friday night,” I reply. 

The world is different now; maybe our relationship is different too.


End file.
